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THE HARD WAY: Callum puts things in perspective

I recently found myself verbalizing thoughts about society to my 7-month-old son. I don’t often do such things. (I never had before, in fact.) Most of the time I just listen to his attempts at speech and try to make him giggle.

But Callum was quiet that morning, which was unusual. I’d placed him on the changing table and was in the process of dressing him in a Mickey Mouse onesie. (My wife loves Disney, by the way … have I mentioned that?) He lay there staring at me without uttering a sound.

So I guess I just felt the need to start a conversation.

“I don’t know what the future holds for you, buddy,” I told him.

He took a long breath, turned his head to gaze across the room at his crib, then looked back at me.

“We just experienced the ugliest election I’ve ever seen, and you’re not even a year old,” I said.

“We are so divided in this nation. No one talks to each other anymore. They just scream and yell.”

He moved his head in what seemed like the slightest of nods.

“I can’t see it getting any better,” I went on. “I don’t know how to make it better. I don’t know if anyone does. I don’t know if anyone can.

“What will it be like when you’re old enough to understand? Uglier? Louder? More divided?”

I paused for a moment, looking inward.

Then, “I’m scared for you. I’m scared of this reality I’ve brought you into. Scared of the dangers it will bring. Dangers I can’t protect you from.”

Callum’s expression didn’t change. He blinked once, but otherwise never looked away. His thoughtful eyes almost seemed to convey an understanding, maybe even sympathy.

Then, he twisted his tiny hips a few inches and released three of the loudest, longest farts I’ve heard in my life. Even with the insulation offered by a diaper and onesie, these excretions sounded like three explosions mixed with tuba blasts.